“I was forced to,” he smiled. “I was in a corner fighting for life against awful odds. I was sick and disgusted with existence. In my new atmosphere I began to breathe for the first time. I was sensing the eternal meaning of things. I began to see why I had been made to suffer, and I was glad. The habits of my associates, their cramped and aimless lives, now seemed horribly sordid. It sounded strange to hear them speak so seriously and gravely of trivial affairs when a vast new world was fairly throbbing around me. I ventured to speak with a tentative sort of respect of some of the books I had read, and they laughed at me. I was forced into cowardly craftiness. I hid my wonderful secret and continued to go among them. But that couldn't go on. One cannot serve both the spirit and the flesh and be true to either, so I gave up my associates. I apologized to the poet, wrote a strong review of a new book of his, and we became good friends.” “Then, then”--Ethel laid an eager hand on his arm--“then you decided to--to come home?” Paul smiled reminiscently, his glance on the gray wisps of clouds slowly lifting themselves from the mountain-side up into the full blaze of the sun. “I simply had to do it,” he said. “It was as inevitable as life itself. I knew it was right, and that settled it.” “So you came!” Ethel cried. “You came back.” “Yes, and when I reached here that night and learned the truth I saw God's hand in it all. Now, you see why I have told you this. Can you believe there is any other design than good--infinite good--behind sorrow, trouble, and agony? Your grief is great--it seems unbearable now; but behind it, above it, beyond it is a purpose so divinely wise that no mortal sense can grasp it.” Just then Cato appeared at the kitchen door ringing the breakfast-bell. Ethel rose apathetically, and they slowly walked toward the house together. They saw her mother among the flowers waiting for them. Paul heard his companion sigh and, looking at her, he saw that she had lapsed into despair again. “I can't bear it,” he heard her say. “I can't--I can't. It's awful, awful!” CHAPTER IX